Ears & Tea
by Emozenith
Summary: Although they might come and go from the tea party, eventually the Mad Hatter and his March Hare Jonathan always end up returning to it and one another. A small collection of Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch oneshots.
1. 1: Ears & Tea

I promised this for crowscrow, for their continued and brilliant work on 'Black & White' a while back but due to illness didn't get around to it until now.

This fic is just going to be a place for unconnected oneshots of Jonathan/Jervis that I write. There is a second longer, and in my opinion much better, story coming in a day or two if you're reading this when it first goes up. If you have any ideas for further Jonathan/Jervis stories, just leave them in a review. Due to circumstances, I might not be able to do them, but if a prompt particularly grabs me, I'll write it for you. I don't find writing stories for publishing here particularly easy, but I like to share what I can.

* * *

><p>"No." Jonathan firmly refused.<p>

Jervis' grinning enthusiasm was dented slightly, but he lackadaisically continued, ""**Did you say, "What a pity?"" **No? Well, no croquet for you then. I suppose I misjudged the value of salvaging your chemicals." And he seemed ready to drop the whole thing.

Such a weak ploy. "Of course I want the chemicals – what else would you do with them? – but not at that price." Jonathan gruffly refused, arms folded and his gaze turned away to the incessant rain driving itself down into the ground outside as if it had a death wish.

Glumly, the Mad Hatter turned his attention to the long, hare-eared aliceband he held in his hands, perfectly sized for Jonathan's head. His hope was dwindling, and frankly he didn't have another use for the half-full crates of chemicals Jonathan had previously been synthesising that were currently stored in the garage of his hideout. No use except extracting favours from his beloved March Hare.

But Jonathan did want the crates; he'd paid practically all he had at the time for those supplies, and without any resources to pull off a heist for more money, he was stuck in Catch 22 unless he could somehow get these from Jervis. He didn't want to cheat his lover, the one person left in this life he could actually trust, either. "...Can't we just..." The Master of Fear awkwardly offered, "you know... share a bed, for a bit?" He could sometimes be such a prude talking about sex that it made Jervis grin again.

"As delightful as you offering to whore yourself out to me is, Jonathan darling," The blonde paused to savour Jonathan's sour scowl, because he hadn't meant it like that; it wasn't like that, just physical, between them, "what I desire is company, conversation, and not just in bed. **"I do wish they WOULD put their heads down! I am so VERY tired of being all alone here!"**" Once again, he brandished the March Hare ears, the proposition of a full tea party together. It practically always ended up in sex anyway, so Jonathan had been hoping to simply jump directly to that.

"If you want conversation, you should turn yourself in to Arkham. The doctors there always want to talk." Jonathan remarked snidely.

Jervis scowled darkly, his temper currently quite volatile, but then went on in careless irritation, "Oh, very well then! I'll keep the chemicals, and I'll experiment with them myself. Can't be that hard," He said airily, walking through to the lounge of this very nice house he'd taken from a mind-controlled social recluse; "I'm a good cook after all. And I did get an A for A2 Chemistry."

This sounded dangerous, and Jonathan didn't have a clue if that was a good qualification in England or not. He didn't trust Jervis with all those acids and alkali in a less lucid mood, the kinds of tea he might try to make from them, or some kind of growing potion. _"Not that he couldn't do with a, 'DRINK ME' potion..."_ And he would do it, make something dangerous that is, deliberately. Jervis would get himself nearly killed to guilt Jonathan for not going along with this simple, innocent little request of his. With a sigh, and another glance at the lashing rain outside he didn't fancy trudging through, the Scarecrow went after his small partner's socken heels. "...Fine." He hissed out. "Fine. Give me the ears, no photos; I'll stay until the rain stops."

Jervis beamed like the sun, proffering the aliceband gracefully as a little tremor of frabjous joy shook his system. He had been so very alone for such a long time hiding away here, experimenting and tinkering.

The brunette snatched the stupid ears, disdainfully trying not to acknowledge the fact he was placing such a juvenile thing on his head. _"God of Fear crossed with some damn playboy bunny..."_ Still, considering how most people responded to his physical appearance, perhaps there was some worth of creepiness in-

The ears moved.

"The ears move." Jonathan enunciated each word in a clear hiss.

The Mad Hatter clapped his hands with glee, seeing Marchie's ears flatten out to the sides at first when he slipped them on, then rise up straight and out of sight when he tried to look up at them with distasteful curiosity. "They do! They work! **Callooh! Callay!**" He giggled madly with ecstasy. "They work like hay for feeling faint!"

Again the ears flattened out as Jonathan scowled – he guessed they were responding to his mood somehow – before he wrenched the things off to glare as they held their bird-like position even when removed. "New adjustment?" He asked the little inventor, knowing this was well within Jervis' intellectual remit – and more sadly his interests – and also noting there appeared to be a second band of thin scarlet plastic attached to the outer layer of reddy-brown aliceband meant to match his hair colour.

Jervis chuckled. "**"I'm a great hand at inventing things."**" His hands gently pushed Jonathan's larger, spindly ones back towards his face, encouragingly. "They track nerve impulses that go to the muscles controlling your eyebrows – given how expressive such a feature is on the human face. The ears ought to mirror your expression, although," He wagged a finger playfully, "if you practice with them, you'll be able to control the ears alone, without needing to move your eyebrows."

"Wonderful." Jonathan flatly said, donning the ears once more and feeling them rise as his eyebrows did out of curiosity for the design. He couldn't deny the technical theory was impressive, even if the application was lacking in his opinion.

"And if you master that," The Mad Hatter went on, "you'd be able to use my proper mind control band on humans, without the mimicking problem you had before."

Once before, bored and trapped for the night together, Jonathan had been allowed to try Jervis' technology out on a stray dog they'd found inhabiting the disused restaurant they set up residence in. With a 10/6 card for high-intelligence animals – the Mad Hatter had many varieties – Jonathan had found he could only get the dog to mimic what he did, be that moving about or barking when he tried to speak. To control a being separately was a more complicated, mental equivalent of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. Every time he learnt more about the lucid genius Jervis Tetch, Dr. Crane was astounded. Jervis ought to be helped into constant sanity for his work, but it too would be refused on the ethical grounds of controlling other human beings now. If the world wouldn't give him a use to be sane, he might as well be mad.

Still, these ears... "Training band, huh?"

"I ought to market them," Jervis shrugged; "'My first mind control' hm?" Being with Jonathan tended to induce a surprising degree of lucidity in him, enough for his wry, little quips.

The inventor watched as Jonathan tried to move them independently, only succeeding in making them twitch and jerk before they frowned with his face.

"Six o'clock, time for tea!" The blonde grabbed his beloved's hand and jerked, leading off towards the kitchen. With the March Hare pushed into a seat to wait, Jervis went about gathering this and that, preparing what one needed to for a tea party. He'd obviously thought he wouldn't have much luck in securing his guest or else everything would probably be set on the table already.

So Jonathan sat and watched his best friend busying about in a beamish mood. It was a rare sight, but with all things going the way that Jervis wanted and someone here he actually shared love with, there wasn't the usual fear that propelled him into Wonderland or to acting out like an angry, terrified child. _Pragmatophobia... _Jervis didn't need to fear reality being all there was to life when his reality was actually pleasant enough.

Everyone had it to a degree, in the way humans delude themselves a little, close their eyes to the things of the world they can't face. People don't want to believe their life can go badly, that the world – _or God –_ would let them suffer.

The reason Jervis' had developed into a full-blown phobia of having to live only in the real world without imagination and stories – _things he has control over – _remained always a half-solved fascination to Jonathan.

And an irritation.

Acknowledging his fascination in the fear of the one human being he could and did love was the one time that Jonathan Crane did perhaps feel that his interest in fear might be a little unhealthily obsessive. That he couldn't stop studying Jervis' fears, when it seemed the done thing not to gain control over a lover by analysis of their fears, signalled compulsion. With every other being he encountered, to find their fear, their controls therefore, was an unthought first move. Rule one. Step one: You learnt about your opponent before confrontation, and everyone was against you until they proved otherwise. But Jervis had proven otherwise, and still Jonathan pried into his past, the roots, mulled the fear over in his mind those times he woke at 2am because The Joker had blown something up five streets away.

**_"_****_But!"_** Scarecrow was cooing in a hiss. "But it's such a **rare** _fear_! Such a **beautiful** _fear_!"

And Jervis didn't ever raise objections to being questioned upon it, in his lucid times when he knew full well the potential price of doing so. The times they lay awake, bare but for a sheet or perhaps Jervis' peacoat, half of a night, trading intimacies and feelings they wouldn't even admit to themselves. Those nights were... strange times. Delusion, pleasure and uncertainty, a heady mix of love.

But that was one of the many reasons he could feel love for Jervis; the troubled blonde understood the incredible importance of his research, aided him in it. And Jonathan was happy to return the favour.

In principle.

When it didn't involve goddamn hare ears. Or losing all control of his body physically, while his mind remained trapped and awake inside. It was genius, somehow using the mind's natural movement inhibitor that activates for most during sleep to prevent the carded person moving their own body while Jervis could still direct them. It was also highly unpleasant, but in Gotham the two tended to go together.

"How are the ears?" Jervis asked conversationally, setting the milk jug on the table. "Now, be careful not to upset that, Marchie; Alice won't be very pleased when she has to move down one if you upset it AGAIN." He gave this instruction in all sincerity, or was a very good actor. Jervis had once told of his brief fling of interest with acting during secondary school. Just one of those normal things lurking beneath them now.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, glad there was no Alice at this party, especially not him. "Distracting. They might be very quiet, but their weight causes me the need to keep adjusting my head for comfort." Even now, he kept wanting to touch them, adjust them manually but trying to do so would cause his expression to change slightly into annoyance and the furry appendages would slip out of his hands as he grasped at them.

The inventor in Jervis considered them seriously with his sharp, cornflower blue eyes, before his usual dreamy, mad sparkle returned, "But you do look so awfully good in them, Jonathan darling! You simply must keep them on!" He wandered off, for whatever else was going to populate this tea party table. "And I insist upon seeing them whilst we make love; I'll have to top you know, keep a clearer head for the studying."

"Since when do you ever have a clear head?" Jonathan muttered to himself.

"Oh, and we must take them to our safer place, you know?" The blonde went on, busying about, wagging a finger with a teasing grin. "Wouldn't do to lose them when they make you so cute as a... as a very cute thing."

The ears flattened out in deep, loathing displeasure before perking up very – rather adorably – straight at the sudden whistle of the kettle. The Mad Hatter had an old-fashioned one on the stove, and now could prepare the teapot.

Before bringing it over, Jervis got out a smartphone from a pocket of his – Lord knows where and whom it was originally from – checking something. Considering he was English, it wasn't that surprising it was the weather. "It's meant to rain until the next morning, Jonathan."

"I know." Jonathan smirked, and his ears folded slightly in a rather smug way.

Though initially surprised, Jervis began to smirk as well, bringing the tea over.


	2. 2: A Most Unfortunate Acquisition

The second oneshot. Just a note, I have no experience with the thing Jonathan and Jervis deal with this chapter. Any unrealistic parts therefore, I apologise for in advance.

* * *

><p>A successful raid on Gotham University completed – "Honestly, Jonathan. How many times must you menace that place to satisfy your vendetta?" – and the escape was underway well. Despite the Bat-signal now glaring in the sky, it looked likely the Scarecrow and Mad Hatter would make it to relative safety this time. They had enough fortune on their side to have come across an idling car in one of the uni's car parks that they passed through. With Scarecrow driving their getaway, the police supposedly chasing them were nowhere in sight and all seemed clear.<p>

Now, Jonathan liked to claim someone who had complete mastery of their fear made the best driver. It made nothing but a reckless driver in Jervis' opinion. But as he still had the English habit of driving on the left – along with struggles to reach the pedals that he wouldn't admit to – the Mad Hatter consented the wheel each time they were in a car together.

Right now his face was covered and his bottom lip quivering behind his overbite as he held on through the lurches of Jonathan's driving. "I really do wish you hadn't persuaded me into being medicated for this!" Jervis squeaked after a particularly sharp turn. "If I were mad now, I wouldn't be so scared!"

Only creepy giggles came from behind Scarecrow's mask as they tore down the middle of the deserted street.

"Look who I'm talking to..." Jervis muttered, clinging to his hat as he checked for any vehicles following them.

Well, they did eventually get to their current place of residence safely enough, if a little carsick on the passenger's behalf. And only then, as they were unloading the supplies, books and petty cash they'd gathered this night from the backseat where it had been hastily tossed did the two rogues discover why this luckily chanced upon car had been left idling ready for its driver to return.

"...That's a baby." Jonathan peered at the carrier on the back seat disapprovingly through his mask.

"Is it?" Jervis asked, his tone hovering between sarcasm and astoundment. "**"Did you say pig, or fig?" said the Cat."**

"It's not going to turn into a pig, Jervis." The doctor informed him, scowling at this most unfortunate acquisition of theirs. As their hideout was currently just a large, vacant warehouse loading floor, they had been able to drive the car inside out of sight, so standing around like this didn't matter.

And it didn't matter to the baby either; it was asleep.

**""****What do you suppose is the use of a child without any meaning?"**" The Mad Hatter asked.

Jonathan observed his partner. "You're confused, aren't you?"

"Well what do we do with it?!" Jervis snapped hysterically, twiddling his fingers with a frantic worry and pulling at his white gloves.

It always seemed to fall like this, with Jonathan giving the rational instructions. "We can't take it anywhere tonight, not with the police and the Bat out looking for us. Neither can we place it outside; its eventual crying will draw too much attention." He had established from its breathing that the baby still lived, despite it having slept through that awfully rough journey here. "I suppose we keep it tonight and find some place to leave it tomorrow."

This Jervis considered and saw sense in. He picked up the baby's carrier, inspecting the infant with great curiosity before placing it upon a small crate nearby to watch. "I'm surprised you didn't suggest to kill it."

Jonathan came to sit and watch it as well, shedding his mask and the outer layer of his costume. "Although it will likely grow up into one of those that will torment the likes of us, currently we cannot make that assumption. It may well grow up to be one of our kind, even if some may cite that as good grounds for disposing of it now before it begins. There are no behaviours it has performed nor attributes that it possesses which I could consider good reasons for terminating it." Jervis' sharp, blue eyes were upon him from the shadow of his hat brim. The blonde looked puzzled and a little surprised. "Besides, it is too young to have the fear of death, when it has no conception of being alive." The God of Fear ought to give a reason like that, he supposed.

Now Jervis chuckled, and sighed. "...I was rather hoping you would suggest we kill it. **"****_One _****can't, perhaps," said Humpty Dumpty, "but ****_two _****can."**" His elbows rested upon his knees, his chin in his hands as he watched the baby's carrier as if it were an entrancing fire.

"I never took you for a child murderer." Jonathan commented.

"Oh no. I don't _want_ to kill it." Jervis assured him honestly. "Not that..." He considered the tiny child. "...But if it's a child's that's not wanted, that would have been better off not born... It might prefer it, you know, that we stopped it growing up whilst feeling that way. If it learnt we had this chance now, it might one day be angry at us for not taking it." There was a sadness in his eyes as Jervis thumbed at the left side of his neck absent-mindedly.

"You're over-generalising, and making assumptions we cannot be sure of." Jonathan tried to rationalise, feeling all the while that as the child had been left in that car, with no one around at all, perhaps it was from a less than caring home. The carrier and clothes it was in looked a little below average quality, but the baby itself looked clean and healthy enough. "I was a child that should never have been born, was not wanted. I am glad to be alive now, to spite those who wish I never existed."

"Hm..." Jervis hummed in a way that couldn't agree.

"...This child is gone first thing in the morning." Jonathan announced, getting up. "It is causing us to talk more intimately than the doctors at Arkham can manage. And that shows just how much use THEY are."

At this, the Mad Hatter laughed and joined him in sorting out their intended takings from tonight, as well as the all-important return-home cup of tea.

As they sat around drinking tea when all was sorted and done, the two rogues began to address this unwanted extra consideration they had in further detail.

"...Does it need changing?" Jervis proposed first, rather awkwardly.

Jonathan gave him a 'how should I know?' look and pulled a scowl on the infant. "It will likely need so at some point."

"...Feeding?"

"We have milk." The Doctor pointed out, indicating their tea.

"Aren't infants only meant to be given cow's milk once at a certain age?" Dubiously, Jervis asked. "Aren't those younger meant to have only...?" He trailed off.

The two male rogues stared at each other.

Uncomfortably.

"We'll just not feed the thing, yes?" Jervis squeaked out hotly, flushing and turning away to sip very deliberately at his tea. "**"It wasn't very civil of **it **to sit down without being invited."**"

Jonathan smirked, feeling as if he had won on that issue. Even though he accepted that truly, neither of them had won in needing to deal with this. "...It certainly sleeps a lot."

**""****He's dreaming now," said Tweedledee: "and what do you think he's dreaming about?"" **The Mad Hatter mused. His medication didn't take away such mannerisms, only made them controlled. It was a sign, Dr. Crane supposed, of how stressful this situation was for him.

"I thought you liked children, Jervis." Jonathan commented wryly.

Oh, not this again. "I enjoy the company of intelligent children of an older age, that could embody Alice-ideals." The Mad Hatter stated in a clipped way. "At least, I enjoy it in theory; I've yet to actually meet any." He added resentfully.

Jonathan chuckled at that. "And so you grace me instead."

"Pish! Your company is a delight Jonathan!" Jervis assured him, with a more-than-friendly pat on the thigh. "...We'd be the most awful parents, wouldn't we?"

The Scarecrow contemplated that, his lanky form folded into the poor excuse for a plastic chair as he finished his cup of tea and set it aside. "...We could not be good parents; any child of ours would be taken away upon our next interment in Arkham. Besides, given our genders," He glanced to Jervis' attentive, cute face, "the methods by which we could acquire a child are forbidden to us, requiring the checks that they do."

Jervis sighed most histrionically. "You never play along with my games, Marchie."

Well, fine then. "Any child of ours would have awful genetics, given our dispositions-"

"But decent height!" The diminutive blonde pointed out cheerfully, looking up. "If they took an average."

One thing to take solace in, in this hypothetical. "It would also likely grow up to be the two of us in amalgamation. It would not be a child born with good prospects at all." Jonathan's gaze clouded slightly as it fell to the small hand still on his leg. "But considering our upbringings, we would try to be good to it, to break the cycles of abuse and show it the love we were denied, I imagine. I like to think myself above such a petty revenge as projecting my childhood suffering onto my own offspring in an attempt to alleviate my own. We would endeavour, but may well likely fail. It would likely grow to hate us, as we hate our own parents."

Jervis clucked his tongue. "You really don't dream enough of _nice _things, Jonathan."

"And you hide from a horrid reality in your mad, saccharine fantasies." The Scarecrow returned in a mocking tease.

Jervis stuck his tongue out.

Jonathan stole his top hat.

"You Bandersnatch!" The Mad Hatter really needed more height to reach for it, crying out as he did. "Return that! Return it now!"

Jonathan laughed, enjoying his best friend's attempts, the little struggle that resulted in Jervis' chair toppling over backwards when finally he grasped his precious hat again. Before the poor thing had a breakdown, the Scarecrow let it go, loving the amount of fear that single article could give or take from Jervis.

He hated the bellowing wail of the now awoken child.

Both stared at it, each other, frantically dashing over and hovering, hands flinched above it, wondering if it ought to be petted or gagged to shut up.

The baby wouldn't cease, its eyes screwed up and face red, mouth a gaping noise hole as it struggled where it lay. Jervis' timid attempt at a lullaby was drowned out as useless. Jonathan's seething hiss to be quiet went ignored as well. A partial solution was almost reached when Jervis tried to shut its mouth with the application of his hands to press the baby's jaw shut, but then it whined like a banshee, so he stopped that.

Both criminal geniuses consulted all they knew of childrearing, from stories and TV.

Pacifier, Jonathan was thinking. But as if they had one of them.

Oh Lord no.

He could try.

It was disgusting but-

The baby ceased crying mainly from curiosity when Jonathan inserted his thumb into the child's mouth to suck.

Well, it was a success. An awful, slimy, gummy success.

"Oh, well done!" Jervis clapped his hands in celebratory appreciation.

"Find something else for it to suck. **NOW**." Jonathan growled out through his teeth like a wolverine. This was not, NOT, what the Master of Fear did.

Frightened slightly, the blonde ran off to find something from the sparse array of items they had around here besides food, bandages and books.

Jonathan was left contemplating his thumb, the one he currently felt he wouldn't be getting back for a few hours if the wide-eyed, longing look on the child's face watching his was anything to go by. And the dratted thing was holding his hand, tiny fingers latched onto his skin like the pudgy, pink legs of some vile insect. Where was Jervis?

_Eventually_, after what Jonathan deemed was far too long, Jervis rushed back with items.

"You don't suppose it'll choke on this if we give it to suck?" He held up some sort of short and small, funnel-like object that would probably suit the task.

"I don't care if it does." The Master of Fear snapped, finally pulling his thumb free.

The baby cried instantly, but the insertion of the makeshift pacifier righted that. It seemed content, though a little less so than with Jonathan's thumb. "I cleaned it up the best I could..." Jervis mumbled, putting down the other things he had carried back. One of which was-

"What are my- those ears doing out?" Asked the appointed March Hare with distaste.

"I thought they might amuse the thing, like one hangs a mobile over their crib." They were being brandished in Jonathan's direction, the brown, fluffy, hare-eared headband. "And I thought it might take the edge off your face, darling." Jervis smirked.

"My face?"

"Enough to strike fear into any small child." The Scarecrow's lover assured him in half teasing compliment.

The hare ears were set aside for now, as a possible plan. "And the material?" Jervis had also brought back some lengths of ripped, whitish material.

"Well," The blonde began a little awkwardly, "in the absence of any proper nappies for it- We can hardly go out to buy any- **"I didn't say there was nothing ****_better_****," the King replied, "I said there was nothing ****_like_**** it," which Alice did not venture to deny.** It's bound to need... changing at some point."

Oh joy.

At least the Mad Hatter had given this some sensible thought. "Why couldn't you have returned first to free me from the mouth of that little demon?" Jonathan grumbled as he tentatively dared to take a sniff roughly in the infant's vicinity. If TV was to be believed, it should be apparent if it was currently soiled this way. Or perhaps that was simply a convenience they took for jokes. Nothing smelt... unpleasant.

The other rogue was observing things doubtfully too. It was quite apparent neither of them had ever spent any time in the company of a baby or parent thereof before.

For all their degrees and expertise, it was a mere baby that had the Scarecrow and Mad Hatter stumped.

"**"****If they would only purr for 'yes' and mew for 'no,' or any rule of that sort," she had said, "so that one could keep up a conversation!"**" If left, Jonathan knew, Jervis tended to explain himself in a more reasonable state. "If only it changed colour or the like, to indicate what it needed. Red for hungry, blue for thirsty and such..."

As far as the Scarecrow was concerned, the thing was bad enough as it was without it being some sort of psychedelic chameleon, although Jervis' point was reasonable. Jonathan would have preferred, however, for it to, say, voice its needs in a patient, polite and above all quiet manner, rather than the noise it did produce.

As it sucked now, it was watching them. Did it want something?

An awkward five minutes of three-way watching ensued, both men considering precautions and preparations while the infant's vapid mind seemed focussed upon nothing.

"...Should I prepare milk, or some sort of a food, for it, perhaps?" Jervis suggested, leaning on the edge of the carrier over their temporary charge.

"I thought we were not going to feed it." Jonathan recalled.

"I imagine it might not give us any choice in the matter." Jervis sighed, observing the child. "And it would hardly be right to let the thing starve."

"You appear to be developing paternal urges, Jervis. Kindly keep them to yourself." Jonathan teased with a little spite.

But the Hatter didn't seem to hear, and had a serious point again. "If it does want sustenance of some kind, it will want it immediately at the moment it demands it, **"and we've no time to wash the things between whiles.""**

"Hm." Well there was sense in that again. Jervis was nothing but a surprise of sense on medication tonight. "I often see the milk heated before it's used..." Jonathan commented, wondering if any ideas would come to his partner about that. "But I imagine it doesn't need to be."

"No..." Responding thoughtfully, Jervis looked off to the kitchen's direction. "I could prepare a little food, in the fridge." He offered.

The Scarecrow shrugged in acceptance, not caring much for the idea but knowing the thing might well start demanding food at some point before dawn.

In any case, the Hatter seemed to want to enact his thought, and left with the suggestion, "Give the ears a try, if you like. **"I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen."**"

Well, Jonathan Crane was simply thrilled. He frowned at the child for a moment – it stared back with a sort of reverent awe, he liked to think – before feeling satisfied that it was satisfied. So he fetched a book, one from the half a dozen stacks about – one of Jervis' on Neurology, actually – and flicked to the part on the amygdala. It was old ground, but the familiarity settled him in light of this new accidental acquisition of theirs, and there were a couple of intricacies that were new even to him.

He wasn't long into the section before a low whining sort of mmm started coming from the carrier.

Looming over the small creature that was turning itself pink and wriggling about – _"Is it a worm?" – _Jonathan frowned once again, wondering why nature had let babies be designed with such a lack of indication as to their needs. He'd even take colour-changing at this point.

After studying it at a loss – and with a glance to check Jervis wasn't going to be able to see and gloat – Jonathan gently picked up his- the March Hare aliceband, slipping it onto his head. After a few times wearing it, he had a little control developing and leant over the carrier. The ears at first moved asymmetrically into a curious slant like his eyebrows, before with more finesse, Jonathan waved them both back and forth alternatively, much to the child's delight. It gurgled and smiled around the object occupying its mouth, a sparkle of fascination in its hazel eyes. Well, Jervis certainly had a knack for knowing what a child would enjoy. "Common mental age most likely..."

Keeping it entertained with intermittent flicks, Jonathan pondered on his own infancy, given he knew nothing about how Great-Granny had cared for him during it. His first memories were of crawling around on the faded purple rug in the living room, the dark wooden floorboards, looking for a pencil he'd dropped. She was having him copy out the Ten Commandments five times for writing practice and if they weren't done by the time she returned from market, he'd go without dinner until he'd copied them out thrice more. He was 4.

"This brat doesn't even know its luck..." Jonathan murmured, fingering the page of the book he'd left aside to amuse the infant. He found himself unable to concentrate fully on either, his attention wavering between every 20 seconds.

**""****Hush-a-by lady, in Alice's lap!  
>Till the feast's ready, we've time for a nap<strong>...**"**" The Mad Hatter was eventually back, singing to himself before stopping to stand beside the raised carrier. "Does it seem to want food yet?"

"It doesn't seem to."

"Hmm..." Jervis studied the child. "So, it likes the ears then?" He looked up with an impish smirk.

Ah. Of course. Jonathan hadn't removed the blasted things, so scowling he diverted the subject. "You've prepared it some food?"

"Mashed bananas and sugar." That sounded fine. "And pepper. It's what tarts are mostly made of, you know." And not so fine.

"You didn't actually add pepper, did you?" Jonathan did not want this turning into Chapter 6.

Although he grinned wryly, Jervis didn't deny it. He only made more quotes instead, "**"It began with blotting paper ... but you've no idea what a difference it makes mixing it with other things – such as gunpowder and sealing-wax."**"

"Just bananas and sugar?" Jonathan attempted to clarify before he fed the child anything with the potential to make it explode.

"And a little cinnamon." They had been here long enough for Jervis to find the time to make cinnamon flapjacks, for want of something to keep the effeminate Brit busy. "It's quite obvious in the fridge, middle shelf."

Jonathan was almost tempted to go have some himself. Staying up for this rather than sleep, given it was now just past midnight, was making him hungry. "Do you know how we can put it to sleep?" The doctor asked of the one currently masterminding their little dilemma.

Jervis looked the infant over. "It seems happy enough awake, **just like a star-fish.**" He observed its little hands sometimes clenching the air.

"Yes," It did, especially giggling as Jonathan's ears frowned with his eyebrows, "but babies tend to keep their parents up all night."

"Oh. I see." The Hatter hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know of one, I'm afraid, an infant soporific that is. But I'm not all that tired presently. I could take a first shift, if you'd like."

"Take these too." Jonathan offered the ears, glad to be free of both responsibilities.

Without the ears, a loud, worrisome eheering began instantly from the baby.

The March Hare reluctantly put his ears back on, and then there was pleased gurkleling. "Can't you use one of your cards on it? I thought you had one that could induce sleep."

"I'm afraid I have none of those with me, **only a thimble. **Wouldn't work anyway, besides." Jervis tapped his head, gaze still on the child.

"Hm?"

"Children's brains are still in a very plastic, uncertain state. Although they have most of their neurons, the connections between them are still very few compared to an adult's. Only in later adolescence does it really settle." The Mad Hatter seemed to be thinking of touching the little thing's head, perhaps to see if its skull was as malleable as its mind. "As much as I can induce physical inactivity in any child, the younger they get below about 10, the harder it is for me to force their actions. There just isn't the same matter in there for me to act on." The same way animals required other cards.

"Oh." Children didn't really factor much into their lives anymore – before tonight at least. Arkham did have a separate, outlying building for treating children and temporary patients, but few of their kind had any reason to visit there except for hostages. Neither were there many children out on the streets at the times they were. A glaring oversight in the doctor's sampling. "Where's the nearest orphanage? I've nearly completely neglected research on the fears of children..." The Scarecrow was wandering off, looking for paper to plan. "**How** could I have ignored this for _so_ long?! The _crucial_ moment of _fear_ development for many!" Jervis watched with amusement; Jonathan's voice was rising as Scarecrow began to slip out and into one of his masterly god-rants. Oh how he adored these. Funnier than anything The Joker ever did. "Just **think** of the _beautiful_, pure **innocence** of their _fears_! **How** they will beg and _scream_ at the **feet** of the **mighty** God of _Fear_ Scarecrow!"

"Scarecrow-" Jervis tried to interject.

"I will **craft** their _minds_ into perfect **_terror_**...! Reach **right** within, until they _know_ the **power** and **majesty** of _fear_...!"

"Scarecrow, if you could-"

"**They** will see _no_ other **god** deserves **reverence** as I-"

"March Scare!" Jervis shouted, finally succeeding in his attempt to interrupt, as well as turning the baby's displeased whining into an anguished howling as it had spatten out its makeshift pacifier. "Bring back those ears, right now, do you hear me?!" Of course Scarecrow had walked off with his March Hare ears still on.

The God of Fear was thoroughly and lividly infuriated to have to stop for this, of course, and stormed back to the carrier with enough terrifying fury that even Jervis backed off slightly.

The infant fell slightly quiet upon the ears returning, but that was before Scarecrow towered over it to unleash a roaring screech more animal than human upon it, accompanied by a fittingly fierce, monstrous contortion of his face. Even without fear toxin, this was weapon enough to reduce even the hardest-boiled guards of Arkham to quivering disarray upon the floor.

The inhuman howl shocked the baby into silence, and Jervis – heart still pounding and terrified himself by the outburst – scrabbled to put his hands to his ears for the ensured wailing.

The lingering twisted face Scarecrow used, however, brought laughter.

"**Why** doesn't it _scare_?" Scarecrow snapped, feeling his hands clenching with a rage at this impossible child.

Even Jervis was chuckling too. "Probably your ears, dear Scarecrow." When the God of Fear tried to look up from them, they only rose in curiosity, following his eyebrows. "They made the most absurd position with that face; took all the terror clean out of it!" Now the rage turned to be directed at the Hatter who went on quoting in self-amusement. "**Just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it WOULD twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing."**

Wrenching the ears off, "Take them," they were thrust at Jervis as the other man stormed off towards their sleeping area of some old sofa cushions all piled up with blankets.

"May I wake you in a few hours to get some sleep myself?" Jervis asked but received no answer. "I'll suppose a yes to that, so that I get what I like." He slipped the ears on, and they seemed to delight the child just the same on him. But to anyone else viewing, they wouldn't suit so well; they were too long, and not at all the right colour for his hair.

The Mad Hatter kept it amused that way for a little while, fingers absent-mindedly stroking the blue ribbon of his top hat in his lap. But that wouldn't be enough if the wait was to be for hours. He also tried Jonathan's abandoned book, but although he didn't know its words like _Alice, _all the content was just as familiar to his mind. Jervis had been reading that book since university. ""**'****_The Walrus and the Carpenter'_**** is the longest."**" He remarked to himself, returning to the infant. "Would you like to hear a good story? Well, I'll tell you the best one I know, in that case." He promised it, beaming. But the Mad Hatter considered again before beginning. "...One of the best. There's two that are just as good as each other, you know, only they don't mind sharing. I'm just a little nicer to the first, as it gives me more lines." With a little clearing of his throat, Jervis began, "**Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do...**"

And so the Mad Hatter recited, perfectly, for his temporary child. He would have much preferred to tell it _The Nursery "Alice"_, but not having read that so often, what he did remember of it would not do it justice. Besides, the pictures were so very important in that one.

Jervis was to the point where, "**splash! She was up to her chin in salt water,**" when the baby started to make a fuss again. It was whimpering and writhing now. "I assure you; Alice is fine at the end of this," He tried.

It began a much louder whine, in crescendo.

"Oh, Dodo..." Jervis started, fretting around the crate it lay on. "**"And if he left off dreaming about you,"**" He gestured in Jonathan's direction, "**"where do you suppose you'd be?"**"

He seized the lot and ran for the kitchen when it began to wail. ""**Consider what a great girl you are. Consider how far you've come today. Consider what o'clock it is**,"" The Mad Hatter beseeched it, ""**Consider anything, only don't cry!"**" With it practically dropped onto the kitchen table thanks to the sheer volume it was making, Jervis fiddled about in a fluster, eventually tentatively putting his hands into the carrier and lifting the child with delicate reluctance to a sitting position. Something about the heat of the child, even through its white and red suit, repulsed him slightly, the reality of the thing, but Jervis tried to make it sit. It only fell back down. "Don't you have a spine?" He asked in exasperation, sniffing at it, considering the red of its face and the wailing. Attempts to put its pacifier back in failed utterly. Humming and erring, Jervis managed to sort of sit it up against the side of its crib while he went to the fridge, trying the next option that came to mind, a nicer one than checking its nappy.

With a spoon and his handmade baby food, at least the wailing made it easy to stick the food in.

The baby stopped wailing, but it still made a displeased sort of noise and scrunched up its face around the spoon, flailing its arms with poor motor skills. Jervis supposed it was younger than he imagined, only a few months old. Perhaps it ought not to have been eating mashed bananas and such, but when he extracted the spoon, most of the food was gone.

He tried another mouthful, and again its crying lessened. "Why, this isn't so hard! Not at all like hunting a Snark!" Whether it was hungry or not, it was shut up by this.

Jervis tried a third spoonful, only this time after he had extracted the spoon, the infant dribbled some of its mush and promptly slipped down to the side with its wiggling about. "You are a useless thing," grumbled the Mad Hatter, dragging it back up to sitting with one hand; "someone ought to make you more user-friendly." He gave it food again, pushing what it had dribbled back in at the same time.

"Fblrv." The child said after its next mouthful.

"**"****Speak in French when you can't think of the English for a thing."**" Jervis advised it.

"Mmwnr." It then said.

"I don't actually remember much French." Jervis confessed. "Yes, five years of it and I can barely even say a sentence now." It mmed around its food. "Didn't like it much. I spent most of the lessons doing my other homeworks. Still got a B." That he was confessing his autobiography to a baby didn't seem to bother Jervis. "It's not all that important... Even English isn't that important if you happen into Humpty Dumpty. Don't happen into Humpty Dumpty," He tapped the child's nose with the spoon before feeding it again, "if you can. He treats me so awfully in Arkham, that egg."

It wouldn't eat much more before protesting so Jervis put the rest away, coming back to lie it down and watch it. Now it would take its pacifier back to suck but something still seemed to be making it uncomfortable, only he wasn't sure what else to do. Flicking the March Hare ears for it at least caused a distraction.

Jervis sat with it a while, talking to it, just out of boredom. He tried going on with _Alice_, but it was doubtful the child appreciated that. "Well, I suppose you won't appreciate this either, but **I shall give you your directions**." It was alternating between watching his eyes and the hare ears. "Stand up for yourself until you find someone to stand with you – find someone and something to love – and don't be afraid to be alone."

He watched it a bit longer.

And then Jervis woke up to hear its crying, his head pillowed on his arms upon the kitchen table. "Mm, hmm..." He stretched, sitting up and tiredly asking it, "What now?"

"Have you fed it?" Jonathan asked, and Jervis nearly started out of his seat.

"Dear Lord, Jonathan!" The Mad Hatter passed a hand over his face, trying to wipe the fright away before the Scarecrow feasted upon it. "Yes. Yes, I've fed the thing. It doesn't seem to need changing or anything else. I'll sort it, however." He tried to shoo his lover away. "Take some more sleep until- It's 3am already?!" The time had been about 1:30 when he fed it.

"Go sleep." Jonathan told him in a tone approaching his version of caring. "I'll take my shift now."

"Thank you." Jervis slipped out of his chair – and like most chairs his feet didn't touch the floor whilst sitting in it – and went for the door. "Oh!" But not forgetting to hand over the March Hare's ears before he left.

Jonathan grumbled but put them on anyway.

He tried the ears, he tried talking to it in what he hoped was a soothing tone. After those failures, he attempted to feed some more of the food leftover in the fridge. That was foiled by the thing refusing to open its mouth no matter how hard Jonathan pressed the spoon to its lips.

It was as he stood over the baby, looking around in wonder at what to do, that Jonathan noticed the smell.

"... You've messed yourself, haven't you? And you waited for my shift to do it." He scowled down at it, being quite certain now what was wrong. It seemed slightly better now, was only squirming a little as it looked up at him so expectantly. "This is revenge for me scaring you, is it? When you are old enough to know fear," The Scarecrow threatened it, "I think you'd make a good test subject for this." But he stormed off to find that material Jervis had prepared earlier anyway. He could leave it, dump the child at 5am on whatever doorstep he happened upon first, but it might not be found for a while, and they got rashes or something – didn't they? – if you didn't change them. Besides, the stench was awful and would permanently linger in the kitchen for however long they stopped here if not cleared out soon.

Walking across their hideout, Jonathan noticed Jervis sleeping already along the way over in the corner. His costume clothes lay to one side while the Mad Hatter himself lay wrapped in blankets that were cocoon-like in number. Perhaps he would prefer to deal with this; he did seem fonder of the thing, after all.

In Jonathan's warring feelings, a sense of fairness to his best friend won out; they had taken shifts and this was entirely luck. "Awful luck," Jonathan muttered, crouched down beside. Rather than wake him then, he simply laid a kiss on Jervis' forehead as everything lower than his eyes was lost inside the blankets.

Jervis' eyelids fluttered enough to show he hadn't yet succumbed completely. Jonathan received a mumbled, "Alice..." for his trouble before sighing and resigning himself to changing that demon-spawn by himself.

With fresh material strips gathered, Jonathan took the brat out of its carrier and laid it down on the- He ought to put something down for this. He dragged an old, plastic tablecloth over to use as a mat. After fiddling the thing out of its little suit, there was the diaper and a smell bad enough to put any idiot off procreation for good. But the doctor had seen and dealt with worse in his time. (He still held the diaper at arm's length with a protective piece of cloth between it and his hand until delivered into a bin.)

While attending to the... ew... wiping, Jonathan struck up a one-sided conversation with the child for anything to think about other than this. "So, you're a boy."

As it was cleaned rather inexpertly with a great deal of indignity, the child then made a displeased noise as if in answer.

"Don't worry." Jonathan assured it. "There's an operation for that when you're older." He wanted to be done with this part now. "Is that satisfactory?" It said nothing. "Well I'm not doing any more. Now how do I tie this around you...?"

Jonathan began to wonder if Great-Granny had had to do this for him after she had kept him. He had no idea of his life before his memories began; of course she never wanted a photograph of a demon such as him. But the thought of her suffering this embarrassing onus was a small but sweet revenge. Most likely she had employed a nurse of some kind however, rather than sully her hands with him.

With the child wrapped so messily up in knotted, torn curtain, Jonathan's attempts to insert it back into its one-piece suit failed multiple times due to the bulk of its makeshift diaper. But it was eventually returned to its original state, inside its suit and carrier. It was sat upon the floor while Jonathan was overcome by a disgust at the whole thing, cleaning his hands off then wiping the table down with washing-up liquid for want of a better cleaning product. Rationally he accepted all these base things about humans as no more than animals, but with his somewhat sheltered, academic life and high-minded deification on the part of Scarecrow, it did seem all very below him and just... ew. Blood, vomit, people peeing themselves in fear; fine. Changing a baby's diaper; not part of the Fear God's remit.

But then back to the blessed clinicality of the book: Amygdala, neurotransmitters, fear.

The baby alternated between quiet resting and restlessness, switching to the second whenever Jonathan was just getting settled and beginning to forget about this whole unwanted situation.

Time shuffled along, ever closer to the end of the ordeal.

Around 5am, the waiting came to an end when his little, bed-ruffled Hatter slunk into the kitchen for tea, peacoat slung over a faded T-shirt and his childish boxers. Jervis didn't even notice the other two occupants until the mugs of tea were standing to infuse, at which point he came to stand over the child and observe it. He also then took note of the frown of the Scarecrow watching him. "It's a Lewis, not an Alice, by the way." Jonathan informed him without pleasure.

The Mad Hatter took a moment to parse that before beaming to have it put in such a frabjous way. "You checked?"

"Inadvertently." Jonathan smirked dryly. "When it defiled itself."

Jervis giggled immaturely, enquiring about the ordeal in humiliating detail which was any amount of detail as far as Jonathan was concerned.

"I knew you would make such an awfully good father, Jonathan." His lover complimented, adding milk and bringing over the cups.

"And you would be an equally adept mother." Jonathan agreed.

Jervis sneered and both men sat quietly over their cups of tea.

After that was only left the matter of where to leave the infant as soon as possible.

~#~

At 8:20am, a baby was discovered upon the doorstep of a health-food shop in High Portland Street, East Gotham, not far from the predominately disused warehouse area. The baby was judged to be in good health and promptly returned to the parents who had reported the disappearance of both it and their car the previous night.

A note was found with the child.

"Dear whomever,

When making our getaway last night, we never intended to take this child as well. It simply happened to be in the car we stole; to the parents, you ought to be ashamed of such a reprehensible act.

We cared for it the best we could with our inexperience. It was fed a mixture a mixture of bananas, sugar and cinnamon a few hours ago, but no pepper. Jonathan made a go of changing its nappy as well - "if you can call that addressing," the Queen said.

Please don't leave your children lying about in future. You know what this city is like for crime.

Yours,  
>Jervis Tetch &amp; Jonathan Crane<p>

P.S. Many children would do much better as pigs, but this one would probably do quite well if it stays as a child."

* * *

><p>I have no idea if this is what 'Two Men and a Baby' is like, but I'd watch if it was like this.<p> 


End file.
